had become emaciated by the rigour of her fasting without heeding it;
and as is usual in such cases, her spirit had become more etherealised
and more susceptible of supernatural influences. After vespers one
evening she returned to her lonely sleeping apartment, a bare and
scantily furnished room, and lay down on her bed, consisting of a thin
layer of straw on a hard, wooden pallet, with nothing more than a
coarse rug for her coverlet. She slept for a short space, then awoke
and rose to repeat the nocturnes, kneeling on the rough flooring
stones. She then lay down again and composed herself to sleep, and
was in the half-conscious state between sleeping and waking when she
was aroused by hearing a passing-bell boom forth, which sounded like
that of Streoneshalh, which was miles beyond earshot, and was the more
remarkable as the bell of Hackness was much smaller and altogether
different in tone. She listened with soul-thrilling awe, and thought,
"Can it be that the holy mother is departing at this moment to her
heavenly rest, and that the sound of the passing-bell is miraculously
brought to mine ears?" Scarcely had the thought flashed across her
mind, when, looking upward, the vaulted roof seemed to be melting away,
like a mist under the influence of the morning sun. In a very short
space of time it disappeared altogether, and there was presented to
the eye of the gazer the expanse of sky studded with stars, sparkling
like clusters of diamonds. Presently the knell of the passing-bell
ceased. And there broke upon her ear the sound of distant vocal music.
As it came nearer, it seemed different from any music she had ever
heard; unearthly; heavenly; so ravishingly sweet was the melody. The
words she was unable to comprehend, but there was something about them
which seemed to declare them of celestial origin. With raptured ears
she listened as the choir, which appeared to be floating in the air,
came on and on until it sounded as if immediately overhead. All this
while, too, a constantly increasing effulgence of supernatural light
was diffusing itself over the firmament, and when the music came into
close proximity to the cell, there burst upon her sight a vision, the
glory of which she could have hitherto formed no conception of. It was
that of a convoy of angels, fairer and more lovely in form and feature
than anything ever conceived by artist or poet, or than ever trod the
earth. It was they who were chanting the divine melody as they floated
along overhead with an upward tendency; and in their midst was the
beautified soul of the sainted mother of Streoneshalh, which they were
escorting to the everlasting realms of purity and peace; of eternal
rest, and an endless duration of unalloyed happiness. The rapt eyes of
Bega were not allowed to rest long on this celestial vision; the group
ascended higher and higher; the voices became fainter and fainter,
until they were altogether lost; and Bega overcome with emotion, fell
into an ecstatic trance, and when she awoke from it there was nothing
to be seen but the glimmer of the moonshine on the walls and roof of
her cell.
The next day a messenger arrived announcing the death of the Abbess,
which he stated occurred immediately after nocturnes on the preceding
night.
Bega remained a little while at Streoneshalh, and then went into
Cumberland, and provided a religious house, called after her, St. Bees,
where she spent the remainder of a most holy life.
A Miracle of St. John.
Two thousand years ago, what is now the East Riding of Yorkshire was
chiefly forest land, with the exception of the Wold uplands, which
were pastures, almost destitute of trees, having some semblance to the
swelling and rolling waves of the ocean, where the Brigantes fed their
flocks and herds, where they dwelt in scattered hamlets, and where they
now sleep in their multitudinous tumuli. In the lowlands at the foot,
the forest was very dense, and was the home of wolves, boars, deer,
and other wild animals, which were hunted by the natives, who fed upon
their flesh and clothed themselves with their skins. This was called
the forest of Deira, and in one spot by the river Hull, a few miles
distant from the Humber, was a cleared space, with an eminence in the
midst, and at its foot, extending westward, a pool of water, afterwards
a marsh or moor, and since drained, forming now a portion of the town
of Beverley, its former condition being indicated by two parallel
streets--Minster-moorgate, the place of the moor by the Minster; and
Keldgate, the place of springs. This was a Druidical open air temple,
where the mystical rites of Druidism were performed.
When the primitive Christian religion was introduced into Britain, it
is presumed that a Christian church was established here, on the rising
ground by the lake, as the early Christians built their churches, where
practicable, on spots held sacred by the people, which supposition
seems to be confirmed by the express statement that St. John rebuilt,
not built, the church in Deira Wood. This early church, doubtless a
very rude affair of timber and thatch, was destroyed or allowed to fall
into ruin when the Saxons and Angles overspread the land and replaced
the religion of Christ by that of Odin. It might possibly be repaired
during the short period after the second introduction of Christianity
by Paulinus and the conversion of King Eadwine, but, if so, would be
again destroyed a few years after, under the desolating hands of Penda
of Mercia, and Cadwalla, as it lay in ruins until the beginning of
the eighth century, when it was restored on a grander scale by John,
Archbishop of York.
St. John, the learned and pious prelate, one of the brightest
luminaries of the Saxon Church, was a member of a noble Saxon family, a
native of Harpham on the Wolds. He was born in the year 640, studied in
the famous Theological School of St. Hilda at Streoneshalh, and became
successively Bishop of Hagulstat (Hexham) and Archbishop of York, which
latter see he held, with unblemished reputation and great usefulness,
for a period of more than thirty-three years.
He was almost incessantly employed in going about his vast diocese,
rectifying abuses, regulating disordered affairs, exhorting the lax,
and commending the faithful. In one of these visitations he came to
the place in the forest of Deira which had been, half a millennium
previously, the Llyn-yr-Avanc of the Celts, and, according to some
antiquaries, the Peturia of the Romans, a conjecture which is supported
by the discovery of a tesselated pavement and other Roman remains,
where he found the ruins of the old primeval British Church. The beauty
and seclusion of the spot struck him as being eminently fitted for the
establishment of a monastery, and probably the thought flashed across
his mind that hither he would like to retire, in his declining years,
to finish his life, after the cares and anxieties of his prelateship,
in the calm of cloistered existence and in the company of a pious
brotherhood.
He did not allow the idea to pass away from his thoughts, but soon
after made arrangements for carrying it out. He rebuilt the choir of
the old church, founded a monastery of Black Monks, of the order of St.
Columba, and an oratory for nuns, south of the church, which afterwards
was converted into the parish church of St. Martin; erected the church
of St. Nicholas, in the manor of Riding; placed seven secular priests
and other ministers of the altar in the head church, and appointed
Brithunus the first Abbot of the monastery, with superintendence over
the other establishments. In 717, he resigned his see, being then
feeble and oppressed by the infirmities of age, and retired to his
monastery, where he died in 721, and was buried in the porch at the
eastern end of the church.
After St. John, the next greatest benefactor to the church and town
of Beverley was Athelstan the Great, King of Saxon England. Indeed,
he may be considered the founder of the secular, as St. John was of
the ecclesiastical, town. The town and church had been destroyed by
the Danes in 867, but a few years after the dispersed canons and monks
returned, and repaired, as far as they could, their ruined buildings,
so as to be able to continue the celebration of the services; but
they remained in a dilapidated state for nearly half a century,
when Athelstan laid the foundations of the future grandeur of the
church, and of the commercial importance of the town. He had heard
of the sanctity of St. John, and the wonderful series of miracles he
had performed, both during his life and after his death, and having
occasion to chastise Constantine, King of Scotland, for abetting
the Danish Anlaf of Northumbria in an invasion of that portion of
his dominions--for he had by conquest added northern England to his
government, and was in truth the first King of England, rather than
Egbert--he visited Beverley on his march to Scotland, and implored the
aid of the Saint, leaving his dagger on the altar as a pledge that, if
successful, he would bestow princely benefactions on the church and
town. By the assistance of St. John, who appeared to him in a vision,
he was the victor in the decisive battle of Brunnanburgh, and nobly he
kept his word. He made the church a college of secular canons; endowed
it with four thraves of corn from every plough in the East Riding; and
made it a place of sanctuary, as a refuge for criminals, with a stone
frid-stool, still in the Minster. He granted a charter to the town,
constituting it the capital of the East Riding, with many privileges
and extraordinary rights; in consequence of which opulent merchants
flocked to the town, and it soon began to flourish mightily, and
became one of the wealthiest and most important of the trading towns
of the realm. He also assigned the manor to the Archbishops of York,
who built a palace there on the south of the church; vied with each
other in their patronage of the town, and in adding to and endowing the
collegiate church.
In the beginning of the eleventh century Archbishop Puttock added
a chancellor, a precentor, and a sacrist to the establishment, and
erected a costly shrine for the relics of St. John, to which they
were translated with great pomp in 1037. Archbishop Kinsius erected a
western tower to the church, and Aldred, who held the see at the time
of the Conquest, rebuilt the choir, and ornamented it with paintings
and other decorative work, completed the refectory and dormitory of
the monastery, and increased the number of canons from seven to eight,
changing them at the same time from canons to prebendaries.
At this time--the period of the Conquest and of the legend--we may
assume from the usual characteristics of the church architecture of
the time, that the church was an oblong building of two stories,
divided into a nave and chancel, with a low tower at the western end.
There would probably be a lower and an upper range of circular-headed
windows, with doorways of the same character, decorated with zigzag
mouldings, and in the interior would be a double row of massive stunted
columns, supporting semi-circular arches, and at the eastern end,
in the chancel, the superb shrine of St. John, which was attracting
pilgrims from all parts, and was beginning to be encrusted with the
silver and the gold and the gems, bestowed for that purpose by the
pilgrims in grateful remembrance of wonderful cures effected upon them
by the miracle working of the saint. Such would most probably be the
church in which occurred the incidents narrated in our legend.
When the Norman Duke William had won the battle of Hastings, and
subdued southern and mid England, and had been crowned King in the
place of the slain Harold, he discovered that he was not really King
of England, but of a part only--that portion north of the Humber,
forming the old Saxon kingdom of Northumbria of the Heptarchy, and one
of the Vice-Royal Earldoms of Saxon England, continuing to maintain
its independence with stubborn tenacity; and it was not until after
much bloodshed that he overcame the sturdy Northumbrians of a mixed
Anglian and Danish race, and garrisoned York, the capital, with a
Norman garrison to keep the province in subjection. No sooner, however,
was his back turned than the people, under Gospatric, Waltheof, and
other Danish and Saxon leaders, broke out afresh in insurrection,
massacred the Norman garrison at York, and vowed to drive that people
and their Duke, the usurper of Harold's throne, from Northumbria at
least, if not from England altogether. It was after one of the most
formidable risings that the Conqueror swore that "by the splendour of
God" he would utterly destroy and exterminate the Northumbrians, so
that no more rebellions should rise to trouble him in that quarter of
his dominions; and with this view he marched northwards, crossed the
Humber--probably at Brough--and encamped at a spot some seven miles
westward of Beverley, purposing to proceed henceward to York on the
morrow.
On his road from the Humber to his encampment he had burnt the villages
and crops, and slain the villagers who came in his way, but the
majority, taking the alarm, fled to Beverley, hoping to find safety
within the limits of the League of Sanctuary, thinking that even
so merciless a soldier as Duke William would respect its hallowed
precincts. But he, godly in a sense, and superstitious as he was,
entertained no such scruples, and he had no sooner seen his army
encamped than he despatched Thurstinus, one of the captains, with a
body of Norman soldiers to ravage and plunder the town.
The people of Beverley and the fugitives who had fled thither
deemed themselves safe under the protection of their patron saint;
nevertheless they felt some alarm when the news was brought that the
ruthless Conqueror lay so near them, and still more when they heard
that a detachment was marching upon the town with hostile intentions.
The church was filled with devotees, who prostrated themselves before
the saint's shrine, imploring him not to abandon his church and town
in this extremity. The day had been gloomy and downcast, but when they
were thus supplicating the holy saint the sun came shining through
one of the windows directly upon the shrine, and lighted it up with
a brilliance that seemed supernatural, which was looked upon as a
favourable response to the prayers of the supplicants.
Thurstinus and his followers had by this time entered the town, but
had, so far, done no injury to either person or property. As they
approached the church, they perceived before them a venerable figure,
clad in canonical raiment, with gold bracelets on his arms, moving
across the churchyard, towards the western porch. The sight of the
golden bracelets excited the cupidity of one of the subalterns of the
corps, who darted after him, sword in hand, and overtook him just as
he was passing through the portal. The soldier had but placed his foot
within the church, when the aged man turned towards him and exclaimed,
"Vain and presumptuous man! darest thou enter my church, the sacred
temple of Christ, sword in hand, with bloodthirsty intent? This shall
be the last time that thine hand shall draw the sword," and instantly
the sword fell from his grasp, and he sank down on the ground, stricken
by a deadly paralysis. Thurstinus, not witting what had happened to his
officer, came riding up, with drawn sword, with the intent of passing
into the church to despoil it of its valuables; but on entering the
doorway he was confronted by the aged man with the bracelets, who
stretched forth his arm, and said to him, "No further, sacrilegious
man; wouldst thou desolate my church? Know that it is guarded by
superhuman power, and thou must pay the penalty of thy impious
temerity!" and immediately he fell from his horse to the pavement
with a broken neck, his face turned backward, and his feet and hands
distorted "like a misshapen monster." At this manifest interposition
of Heaven the Normans fled back to the encampment with terror-stricken
countenances, and the people in the church looked round for their
deliverer, but he had vanished, and they then knew that it was St.
John himself, who had come down from heaven to protect his town and
church from the insult and ravages of Norman ferocity.
When the soldiers reached the camp they reported to their superior
officer the result of their expedition and the horrible death of
their leader, which they could not attribute to anything less than
supernatural power. The report in due course reached the King, who
summoned the soldiers into his presence, and listened to their
narrative with superstitious awe. "Truly," said he, "this John must be
a potent saint, and it were well not to meddle with what appertains to
him, lest worse evil befal us. He may possibly use his influence in
thwarting our designs against the rebels of this barbarous northern
region. Let not his town and the lands pertaining to his church be
injured, or subject to the chastisement and just vengeance we intend
against those who have dared to raise the standard of revolt against
our divinely ordained authority; but rather let them be protected, for
it were bootless and perilous to fight against Heaven. Onward then
to York, and when we have, by such severity as the case warrants,
effectually crushed the spirit of revolt, we will consider what
further can be done to propitiate this saint, whom it were well to
conciliate by gifts, so that he may be led in gratitude to recompense
us by assisting in the consolidation of our power, which is not yet
established on sufficiently firm foundations."
He found no difficulty in suppressing the insurrection when he reached
York, putting to the sword those of the insurgents who remained there
after their leaders had fled towards Scotland. In order to prevent any
future rising, with any possible chance of success or gleam of hope, he
then meditated and carried out a cold-blooded scheme, which might have
been deemed a measure of policy, but which for ferocity equalled any
act of cruelty perpetrated by the most atrocious tyrant of pagan ages.
He sent forth his men with swords and torches, to the north, the west,
and the east, and for an extent of sixty miles, from York to Durham,
by several miles in breadth, laid the country desolate. Villages,
churches, monasteries, and castles, with the granaries of corn and
the standing crops, were all destroyed by fire, and every person,
man, woman, child, or priest, met with was slaughtered without mercy;
and when the work had been accomplished, this vast extent of country
bore the aspect of a Western American prairie after it had been swept
by fire, leaving only the charred stumps of the trees standing, with
this difference, however, that there only the half-burnt bodies of
animals, such as were not able to escape by flight, are found; whilst
here, scattered profusely on the wood-side, and round their once
cheerful and happy homesteads, lay the rotting and putrefying corpses
of human beings, on which the wolves and birds of prey were battening
and gorging themselves; and it took many and many a year before this
region recovered itself and became again a country of farmsteads and
villages, of crops and fruit trees, and of an industrious population.
William of Malmesbury says that not less than 100,000 persons perished
in this fearful act of vengeance; and Alured of Beverley, a monkish
writer, and treasurer of St. John's Church, states that "The Conqueror
destroyed men, women, and children, from York even to the western sea,
except those who fled to the church of the glorious confessor, the
most blessed John, Archbishop, at Beverley, as the only asylum." An
indisputable proof of the desolation wrought on the lands appears in
the Domesday Book, which in most places in Yorkshire is described as
waste or partially waste, and which is represented as of no value or
of much less value than in King Edward's time; whilst in Beverley and
the lands of St. John there is scarcely any waste mentioned, and the
value is given as the same or nearly the same as in the reign of the
Confessor. Under Bevreli we read, "Value in King Edward's time, to the
Archbishop 24 pounds, to the Canons 20 pounds, the same as at present."
The King not only exempted the town and demesne from devastation, but
became a notable benefactor thereto. He added to the possession of
the church certain lands at Sigglesthorne, and granted the following
confirmatory charter:--"William the King greets friendly all my Thanes
in Yorkshire, French and English. Know ye that I have given St. John
at Beverley sac and soc over all the lands which were given in King
Edward's days to St. John's Minster, and also over the lands which
Ealdred, the Archbishop, hath since obtained in my days, whether in
this Thorp or in Campland. It shall all be free from me and all other
men, excepting the Bishop and the Minster priests; and no man shall
slay deer, nor violate what I have given to Christ and St. John. And
I will that there shall be, for ever, monastic life and canonical
congregation so long as any man liveth. God's blessing be with all
Christian men who assist at this holy worship. Amen."
And from this time the town flourished greatly, and grew rapidly in
population and wealth. As to the church, it became more than ever the
resort of pilgrims, who left rich presents on the shrine of St. John.
In the year 1188 the old Saxon church was destroyed by fire, which may
be deemed a fortunate occurrence, as men were stimulated at this, the
best period of Gothic architecture, to erect over the relics of St.
John a structure worthy of his eminence and fame; and the outcome of
this impulse was the uprising of the existing magnificent church, which
is now the great architectural glory of the East Riding.
The Beatified Sisters of Beverley.
In the south aisle of the nave of Beverley Minster may be seen an
uninscribed canopied altar tomb. It is a very fine specimen of the
Early Decorated style, manifestly dating from the period of Edward
II. or the earlier portion of the reign of his successor. It is
covered with a massive slab of Purbeck marble, rising above which is
an exquisitely proportioned pointed arch or canopy, with pinnacles
and turrets, crocketted work and finials, all elaborately chiselled
and carefully finished. History records not whose mortal remains are
deposited in the tomb: there it stands like the Sphynx on the sands
of Egypt, maintaining a mysterious silence as to its origin, "a thing
of beauty," displaying its elegance of form and the charms of its
sculptured features to all beholders; but seeming to say--"Admire the
perfection of my symmetry if you will, but inquire not whose relics I
enshrine, whether of noble or saint. Unlike my more gorgeous sister
tomb, in the choir, near the altar, which blazons forth the glory of
the Percys, I choose, with Christian humility, and recognising the fact
that death renders all equal, and that in the sight of the Almighty
Judge a Percy is no better for all his glories than the pauper--to draw
a veil over the earthly greatness of the family to which I belong."
Although history is thus silent in respect to the origin of the tomb,
tradition is less reticent, and from its oral records we learn, not
perhaps all that can be desired, but a narrative that probably has a
basis of truth.
About a mile westward of Beverley Westwood, on the road to York, lies
the pretty picturesque village of Bishop Burton, with its church on an
eminence commanding an extensive view of the Wold lands on one hand,
and of the country sloping down to the Humber on the other. It is
environed by groups of patriarchal trees, including a noble specimen of
the witch elm on the village green, with a trunk forty-eight feet in
circumference, and which is held in great veneration by the villagers;
and in the valley below is a small lake, which doubtless supplied fish
to the household of the Archbishops of York when they had a palace
here. It is a very ancient village, dating from the Celtic period,
when it formed a burial place of the Druids and British chieftains.
One of the numerous tumuli was opened in 1826. It was seventy yards in
circumference, and was found to contain several skeletons of our remote
forefathers of that race. From some tesselated pavements which have
been discovered, it appears also to have been occupied afterwards by
the Romans.